


Aftermath: Gralea I

by SunshineAndSnark (GoodApollo27)



Series: Aftermath [3]
Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Anxiety Symptoms, Ardyn is a jerk, Gladio tried to help, Hallucinations, Ignis to the rescue, Introversion, M/M, Minor Injuries, Poor Prompto, Prompto is a wreck, Psychological Trauma, Self-Hatred, Slow Burn, Swearing, chapter 13 spoilers, noctis isn't here right now please leave a message, unpleasant thoughts, where theres prompto theres self-confidence issues!
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-02
Updated: 2017-10-02
Packaged: 2019-01-08 00:41:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,791
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12243783
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GoodApollo27/pseuds/SunshineAndSnark
Summary: After his rescue in Zegnautus Keep, Prompto barely has a chance to repair his friendship with Noctis before his closest companion is taken by the Crystal. With their small group shattered once again, Prompto struggles to cope with Noctis' absence and his own traumatic memories. But he won't face his burdens alone; Ignis has a debt to repay.





	Aftermath: Gralea I

**Author's Note:**

> Woo, story 3! Man, this one gave me a bit of trouble... Sorry if it's not up to snuff. Also, I have changed the relationship tags because... look, I kinda became a huge Prompto/Ignis fan, and my husband (who beta read my first story) noted that he could see undertones of it, so I'm just going to roll with it. I have some stuff planned out, anyway. I'm sorry if this upsets, anyone. You guys have been great and I always look forward to seeing the comments and kudos counts rise. It fills me with endless joy.

 

Chapter 1

 

Nestled deep within the grey, frost-locked borders of Gralea, lay Zegnautus Keep: an endless maze of claustrophobia-inducing hallways, shuffling rogue MTs, and chittering daemons. Nestled deep within Zegnautus Keep, lay the Crystal: a giant glittering rock of mysterious power that... Prompto didn’t really understand. At all. On the cold floor next to the suspended Crystal, lay Prompto, arms and legs limp at his sides. Like a puppet with severed strings. Yeah, that’s pretty much how he felt.

 

**_“How long are you going to play at being a ‘real boy’?”_ **

 

Once lively blue eyes, now dulled by days of terror and anguish at the hands of Ardyn, by sleepless nights alone in that tiny, dark room, stared sluggish into the rosy faceted depths of the Crystal. Searching for Noctis. Where was he? Prompto couldn’t see him. Where was Noct? His friend? His beloved friend? Ardyn said that the Crystal took him. Or something… But Prompto couldn’t see him in there. No matter how hard he squinted. They’d barely had any time to spend together… Just hasty explanations and apologies and a stupid promise that meant nothing,  _ nothing  _ now, and then it was off to get the Crystal and...

Dark smears of blood streaked the surface of The Crystal. Bandages wrapped snug around each of Prompto’s chilled fingers.

He remembered screaming, his cries echoing off the walls until he sounded like a dozen tortured daemons. How long ago had he done that? Tearing his nails across the rough surface of The Crystal, trying to claw his way to Noctis. Gladio stood back at first, seething quietly at the damned rock that was supposed to  _ bring _ them hope, not snatch it away. He’d finally rushed forward to drag Prompto away from the thing as the anguished gunner’s cries deepened with pain, the Crystal burning against his skin. And Ignis… Ignis just stood there, staring forward, seeing nothing and hearing everything. Lost, as Prompto’s screams continued to swell.  _ Where was Noct? _

 

**_“The Prince finally got bored of his little toy, did he? Hmm… How tragic. Royalty can be_ ** **so** **_fickle.”_ **

 

Ardyn’s smug voice slipped so easily through his mind, spreading like poison in his veins. He’d been rescued, but as long as that hated man’s voice lingered in Prompto’s thoughts, he’d never be free.

           Heavy footsteps announced the arrival of Gladiolus. Prompto didn’t raise his head, didn’t acknowledge the Shield at all. Didn’t even know if Ignis was still there, silently standing guard over him. Not that Ignis really needed to; the Crystal seemed to ward off daemons and MTs. Is that why his hands burned when he touched it?

         A boot nudged Prompto’s shoulder, but unfocused blue eyes remained on the Crystal. Maybe if he looked deep enough, it would take him as well. He’d go to where Noctis went. But that wouldn’t work, would it? Noct was… he was the Chosen King. Special, even among royalty. _Yeah, that’s Noctis, alright._ Special _. And I’m… I’m just a crappy copy of a madman...one of a thousand of his faces put in this world only_ _to be exterminated. Wouldn’t even exist if not for- ...for..._ Ardyn _..._

“Prompto!” Gladio’s sharp voice dragged his attention back, and he found himself sitting up. When had he sat up? Prompto let his eyes fall to his lap. A cup of something warm rested in his hands. Steam curled inviting from the styrofoam cup, mixing with the soft puffs of Prompto’s breathing. Cup noodles.

“Gotta eat something, Prompto,” Gladio ordered, gaze falling onto Prompto’s pale face. The gunner’s eyes rested deep among rings of shadow, his freckles aglow like feverish sparks against colorless cheeks. Bruises adorned his neck and jawline in blossoms of blue and purple. Dark clusters of bruising gathered on his arms, as well. Gifts from the Chancellor. Prompto felt the ache behind every one of them. He lowered his hands, moving to put the noodles down.

“When was the last time you ate?”

Prompto stared up at Gladio, the words taking time to register. When? He couldn’t… did he eat yesterday? Two yesterdays ago? He recalled something sad and mushy, eaten out of a cold can in a quiet dorm. Before losing Noct. But when had that happened? 

A half-hearted shrug. He couldn’t remember. He didn’t care. He was supposed to be empty, anyway.

 

**_“You don't look well, at all, my dear friend. I’d say you look rather…_ ** **empty.** **_”_ **

 

A sigh, heavy with the weight of rapidly withering patience. “Either way, it’s been too long. You need to get something in your stomach. Now,” Gladio ordered, barely keeping his voice level. “You need your strength if we’re gonna fight our way outta here.”

Prompto’s eyes swung back down to the cup in his hand. Warmth radiated into his stiff fingers, whispering of contentment. Whispering memories of campfires and laughter and four sleeping bodies in a cozy tent. He couldn’t recall the last time he'd felt something warm. So inviting. Where did they get this? How had they managed to warm it up? Maybe Iggy had a leftover fire flask, or something. Shouldn’t have wasted it… 

As the salty scent of the noodles drifted from the cup, Prompto’s stomach growled to life, begging him to eat. Fighting off a wave of dizziness, Prompto raised the cup to wind-chapped lips and took a small sip. Pleasant heat travelled all the way down his throat. Another longer sip, and the room started to feel much colder, his own body warming slightly. How long had he spent in here? Prompto shivered, catching Gladio’s intense gaze as the man made sure that he finished the whole cup. With slow, careful sips, Prompto eventually finished off the noodles. Warm contentment glowed from his finally satisfied stomach, his thoughts falling into place as the fog in his head cleared a little.

“Thanks,” he said, voice rough from misuse. He rubbed his mouth with the back of his hand, leaving a smear of soup broth. A bit of salt seeped into his torn knuckles, making him wince at the sharp sting. Joints protested with loud cracks and clicks as Prompto slowly rose to his feet. Yeah, laying on that metal floor for that long definitely wasn’t a good idea. He started to turn back toward The Crystal, ready to resume his vigil now that he could stand, when Gladio’s calloused hand swallowed up his shoulder.

“That’s enough, Prom. We gotta get going.”

“What?” Prompto’s eyes narrowed, his mind freezing up.  _ Was he… Was he saying…? _

“This place isn’t exactly  _ safe _ , and the daemons are multiplying. We need to leave.”

Prompto hunched his shoulders, gaze turning brittle. Like chips of Gralean ice. “I’m not leaving Noct.” He tried to turn again, but Gladio pulled him back, grip tightening on Prompto’s shoulder.

“Look, I don’t want to leave him either,” Gladio admitted, his voice softening just a little. “But we have no idea when he’s getting out of that thing, and we’re running out of supplies. We can’t wait around.”

Prompto clenched his jaw. “No. He didn’t leave  _ me  _ behind, I’m not leaving him.” 

“I’m not asking you, kid. I’m  _ telling _ you,” Gladio growled, patience evaporating. He gave a firm tug, causing Prompto to stumble. “Come on, Ignis is waiting back in the break room.

Prompto jerked his shoulder away from Gladio, something sparking through his chest, igniting in his tired mind.

“You know what, Gladio? I’m sick of you rushing us all the time. Let people mourn at their own pace!”

Gladio’s eyes widened at the flash of anger, at the look on Prompto’s face. He could probably count on one hand the amount of times he had ever seen Prompto get pissed. And have plenty of fingers left to spare. Under normal circumstances, Gladio would have laughed at the sudden surge of spunkiness, would have congratulated Prompto for finally having the balls to stand up for himself. But not right now. Gladio was tired. Physically and mentally. He’d spent the last few days tossing and turning on a cold cot in an enemy base, worrying about what to do next. Worrying about what was happening to the world and everyone they’d met. Worrying about Noctis.

“We don’t have time to mourn. We need to look into this ‘longer nights’ business. We need to find out what that Ardyn bastard is planning next. The world isn’t going to wait around while you bitch and cry.” Gladio’s voice grated out louder than intended. His sharps words shredded at Prompto’s frayed nerves.

“Whatever,” the blonde spat, glaring up at the Shield. “Not all of us can be emotionally stunted  _ hardasses _ like you. So just...just screw off. Go back and hang out with your dumb little sister. I’m not abandoning Noct.”  _ I promised… _

 

_ “Ever at your side...” _

 

Somewhere between Prompto’s venomous accusation and hateful tone, Gladio snapped. A large hand shot up and backhanded Prompto across the face, sending the smaller man staggering against the railing surrounding their platform.

The room spun as Prompto barely managed to break his fall. The taste of blood seeped through his mouth from where he’d bit his lip, his cheek hot and stinging. Gladio had held back. Prompto knew, because the bones in his face weren’t broken. But still. The thought did nothing to extinguish his fury, to stop him from lunging back at Gladio. His fight or flight responses had been so overused, so suppressed over the past few days. Every move on autopilot, often motivated by nothing more than the base desire to  _ survive _ . 

Heat prickled at his eyes as Gladio grabbed his abused wrists with little effort, fingers wrapping around raw skin a little too easily. Prompto ached under Gladio’s rough grip, sore muscles straining uselessly.

“Let go!” Prompto snarled, squirming. He clawed at Gladio’s hands with useless bandaged digits until the larger man forced his arms apart. He held Prompto in place, the gunner’s wrists engulfed in his iron grip, arms stretched slightly above his head so that Prompto had to balance on his toes.

 

**_“Well, well… Look who’s finally awake! Niflheim’s long lost stray has wandered back! Just couldn’t stay away, could you?”_ **

 

The struggling ceased as if a switch had been flipped. Prompto dangled frozen as the room faded away, rearranging into another scene.  _ Gods, no... _ Terror seared through his stomach, shoved his lungs flat no matter how hard he breathed. Blue eyes lit with hysteria as he stared through Gladio, his body starting to shake.

Before him stood a man with dark maroon hair, falling around his shoulders in messy cascades. Yellow eyes that whispered of oblivion. A cocky smile that never faltered as he beheld so much suffering. 

The old circular saw in the corner, sitting with an assortment of other rusty tools. The tiny room, cluttered with glinting handcuffs and assorted bottles of chemicals. Noctis’ hands and hate-filled snarl. His own face staring back at him with his own eyes, blue and blank and terrifying.

 

**_“It's so unfortunate that I have to keep you in such dreary quarters, but we can’t have you running off, again, can we?”_ **

 

Prompto shrieked, all desire to fight replaced with the crippling need to flee. He squeezed his eyes shut as he thrashed. _ Hadn’t he escaped? Can’t be trapped again! Couldn’t move couldn’t breathe can’t escape please not again can’tbreathecan’tbreathecan’tbreathe! _

“What the? Settle down, Prompto!” Gladio yelled, angling his body away from a poorly aimed kick. Prompto didn’t hear Gladio. He needed to escape, to hide. To get away from Ardyn.

He thought it was over. He thought he was  _ safe _ , back with Noctis and Ignis and Gladio. Another trick. Another lie.  _ How many times? How many times will you fall for it, you stupid dumbass!?  _

“No! Nonono stop!” Prompto gasped in lungfuls of air that somehow weren’t enough. That thick metal band pressed just close enough that his ribs could never fully expand, not if he didn’t breathe carefully, shallowly. He never could manage. He would pass out soon. No matter how hard he tried, the terror of confinement, his stupid claustrophobia always won.

“Prom, you’re freaking me out, kid!” Gladio growled, managing to get his voice level.  “Get it together, and I’ll let go!”

“Why! Why...what did we ever do to you!? You can’t trick me anymore...You’re not  _ him _ ...not  _ them _ ...They’d never...” His voice dropped to a low whimper as darkness fizzled at the edges of his mind, creeping over his vision like a hundred tiny spiders. His arms, his legs, everything started to go numb.  _ Not again...not again...just let me go… _

 

X X X X

“What are you talking about?” Gladio felt Prompto start to go limp. He kept his grip firm, though, not quite sure what he should do. He’d been trained in all forms of outdoor survival, in combat tactics and first aid. But never in how to calm a hysterical friend before they hyperventilated. That kind of stuff was more Ignis’-

“Gladio? What’s happening? Is Prompto hurt?” Ignis’ panting voice, rough with worry, sounded next to Gladio, making the Shield jump. When the hell had Ignis shown up? And how had he managed to get here on his own? Astrals, the man could have fallen off of one of the platforms with an unlucky step. He didn’t feel like dwelling on that. Not when he had another problem to handle.

“We… got in a fight,” Gladio admitted. He had to raise his voice over Prompto’s whimpering. “I grabbed his wrists to hold him back, and… he went nuts.”

Ignis stumbled forward, bumping into Gladio’s sturdy forearms.

“Let go, Gladiolus!  _ Now! _ ” Ignis barked, realization sparking.

Gladio looked back at the limply trembling gunner and carefully loosened his grip. Sucking deep breaths until Gladio felt sure his scrawny little chest would burst, Prompto swayed on his feet, looking too thin, too pale. Like a child’s doll. A beat up doll belonging to some jerk of a child.

Gladio reached out a hand. He really didn’t want Prompto to smash his head open on the floor if the kid suddenly fainted. Not after coming all this way. Spending days in this miserable Nif hellhole. Before his hand could make contact, Prompto shoved past with clumsy limbs, footsteps quick and heavy against the metal floor as he bolted. Gone before Gladio or Ignis could say another word.

The Shield’s heart echoed with Prompto’s howling cries. Guilt thundered through him like a pissed Behemoth. He hadn’t meant for that to happen. Hadn’t thought… He’d only  _ acted _ , running on instinct instead of reason. And instinct told him to grab Prompto, to restrain the kid before things got out of hand. 

Something clicked in Gladio’s head: the scene from when they’d found Prompto, imprisoned in some old supply closet turned holding cell on a huge Y-shaped metal rack. Wrists clamped in place by tight metal cuffs, outstretched a few inches above his head. Wrists rubbed raw and red from a futile struggle against his restraints. That image faded into one from a few seconds ago, but instead of metal cuffs holding Prompto’s wrists, Gladio saw his own massive hands. Restraining Prompto in the position he’d been forced to assume for over three days.

“Damn it…” Gladio grumbled, wrapping his fingers tight through his messy hair.  _ Great job, asshole.  _

Ignis hovered nearby, fists clenched at his sides, even as his face remained a mask of calm. Those scars a constant reminder of how fragile they all were. Of how he’d failed to protect one of his friends. Of how so much could be taken without warning. Shouldn’t scare him anymore, though. Not like they had much more to lose. Noctis was gone, the world was growing dark. He’d strained his friendship with Ignis to the breaking point, didn’t know if it could ever return to normal. Now, he doubted Prompto would let him even get  _ close _ . How much longer would he have to watch, helpless and enraged, while his friends suffered around him? Just when they were all starting to get back on track...

“We need to find him,” Ignis stated, turning toward the long dimly lit corridor. “He could injure himself if left alone in his current state. Or at the very least, he’ll attract the attention of any nearby foes.”

“Not really sure if he’d want to see me at the moment,” Gladio admitted with a heavy sigh, closing his eyes.

“I’ll handle Prompto once we find him. I only require that you guide me there. These hallways tend to befuddle my sense of direction, and I grow rather tired of trapping myself in every other corner.”

“Sure thing, Iggy,” Gladio responded, taking a hesitant step forward. Even after days of guiding Ignis around, the Shield still felt nervous touching him. Like Ignis might shatter. Like Ignis might get  _ pissed _ . A pissed Ignis was not a fun sight, and Gladio knew that the Advisor’s current levels of dependence led to a short temper. That, and Iggy had never been much of a fan of physical contact. Not like Prompto.

Gladio swallowed as he guided Ignis forward. Now that he thought about it, Prompto hadn’t taken part in much of the random physical contact that Gladio had grown accustomed to. Not since they found him here.  _ What did that damned Ardyn do to the kid? _ Gladio wondered, lifting his lips in disgust. Prompto refused to speak about anything concerning his captivity. He talked fleetingly about destroying the armory with Aranea, but anything after that…

Prompto insisted he was fine when they asked. Fine, just tired, that’s all. All he told anyone, until they dropped the subject. They didn’t want to press him if he wasn’t ready to share. Then Noctis disappeared into the Crystal. Now...this…

Gladio tried to smother his thoughts before his imagination got the better of him, before his rage clouded his reason. Again. First things first, they needed to find where their little gunner had run off to. Then, Gladio could fix things. He hoped.

Ignis halted, head cocking to the side like a distracted chocobo. Gladio stopped next to him.

“Do you hear that?” Ignis asked slowly, voice low.

Gladio strained his ears, turning his head up and down the empty hallway. For a moment, he thought he caught something, but it slipped away too fast to be sure. 

Ignis crept forward, twisting his head to pinpoint the sound as Gladio nudged him away from trash and dead ends. He really hoped it wasn’t just a daemon or another rogue MT. It felt like they’d cleaned the place of every enemy possible, but the little bastards just kept slipping out of the cracks.

As they approached the door to another break room, Gladio heard the noise. Hitched, rapid breathing. Ignis stood next to the Shield, nodding toward the door.

“Least he found somewhere safe,” Gladio noted, relief pulling some of the tension from his shoulders. He raised his hand to knock at the door, but Ignis’s words stopped him.

“It may be best for you to wait,” Ignis explained, his voice kind. “Prompto may have yet to calm down. He may feel trapped despite the security of the break rooms.”

Gladio frowned, swinging his eyes away from the door as he tried to ignore the soft noises creeping out from the other side. Was that a muffled scream? Gods, he hoped not… Letting Iggy go in alone...it was probably the best course of action, he grudgingly decided. Ignis and Prompto had grown much closer since… Altissia. 

A few years ago, he never would have believed it after seeing Prompto’s face when the kid first met Ignis. The little blonde looked ready to wet himself under Ignis’ stern demeanor and stuffy formal manners.

“Let him know that...I’m sorry…” Gladio murmured, looking into Ignis’ single hazy eye, murky behind his tinted shades.  _ I’m sorry for so much… I failed to protect all of you… _ “For what happened in there. I didn’t want for him- I didn’t want to hurt him. Didn’t  _ mean _ to hurt him.”

Ignis seemed to hold Gladio’s gaze, leaving the man a little unnerved. “You have my word.” Squaring his shoulders, Ignis turned and tapped gently on the door with his knuckles.

“Prompto? It’s Ignis. May I come in?”

  
  


<> <> <>

Prompto hugged his arms tighter around his legs, curled on one of the far cots in the quiet break room with his back pressed against the wall. He breathed hard and fast, struggling to slow down. His thoughts. His heart. His breathing. All of it...too fast. Too much. He sat there for hours. Or minutes. Or years. Long enough for his panicked, scrambling mind to drift back into place, for his emotions to settle. 

 

**_“You seem to have lost your pep, dear Prompto. Does the clockwork soldier need someone to wind him up, again?”_ **

 

If he curled tight enough, maybe he’d just pop out of existence. He’d disappear just like Noct. Only, he  _ missed _ Noctis, his best friend. No one would miss him, Prompto felt sure of that. 

Noctis was important. Loved. Special. No one could measure up. Prompto was just… nothing. A carbon copy of a madman. Destined to destroy, destined to  _ be _ destroyed. 

It’s not like he had any delusions of being special, or anything. But every time he thought of walking through that facility, of seeing dozens of copies of his own sleeping face lined up before him, Prompto felt… hollow. Replaceable. That’s all he was  _ designed _ to be.

 

**_“Do you think Noctis would even notice if I swapped you out for one of your copies? Would he even care whether it was the_ ** **real** **_you?”_ **

 

He tried to tell himself that his memories and experiences were unique to him, that they made him who he was. They made him Prompto. But it did nothing to ease his mind. Any other of those hundred clones could have had his life, instead. Could have been rescued and lived out his life, his memories. There was an endless supply of Promptos. 

It wasn’t destiny. It wasn’t because he was special. He was rescued from Niflheim by sheer luck. That’s all his whole life boiled down to. Just luck. Any of them could have been taken. Any of them could have befriended Noctis. Could have loved photography and chocobos and video games and… and he could have stayed here. Been made into what he was meant to be.

He let out a frustrated groan, thumping his fist against the wall. Like that bastard Ardyn had said: Prompto wouldn’t even exist if it weren’t for  _ him _ . The thought made him feel sick. He hated him. Hated Ardyn for hurting him and screwing with his mind and pissing off Noctis and killing Luna and… he blinded Ignis. A long, pained whimper grated up from his chest. He’d learned the truth in that dark little room. Ardyn had blinded Ignis. 

 

**_“How’s Ignis doing? It’s a shame what happened to him. You know, I don’t think he liked me too much. From the moment we met, he always gave me the_ ** **dirtiest** **_of looks.”_ **

 

Prompto ground his teeth as Ardyn’s chuckle rang through his head. That disgusting sound. He hated it. Hated it so much. 

 

**_“I guess he’ll never give me another dirty look, now, will he? Ha! Ignis will never give_ ** **anything** **_a look, anymore!”_ **

 

_ Shut up! Shut up shut up shut up!  _ He never stopped talking. That stupid, purring voice… Filling the room and filling his head... It was worse than sitting in silence, unable to move, for hours on end. A minute with Ardyn was so much worse…

 

**_“Ignis Scientia…”_ **

 

Ardyn spoke the name slowly, mouth wrapping around the syllables in a way that made Prompto seethe with revulsion. He had no right to say that name. Not with his vile mouth. 

 

**_“a man of fire and intellect. How tragically fitting that such a proud man would be brought to his knees with a simple burst of flame.”_ **

 

Frost shot through his veins when Ardyn said those words, leaving his body frozen and numb on the rack. Images of broken potion bottles, of Ignis’ bloodied face, of a mangled pair of glasses resting neatly on the Advisor’s chest, as if someone had placed them there. The images flashed through Prompto’s mind like a fork of lightning, leaving him paralyzed. 

Now, he struggled to block out that voice whenever he looked at Ignis, at one of his best friends. Wounded in body and soul by Ardyn. Prompto let out a sob, wishing that he could just walk out into the hallway and lay down. Wait for an MT to amble by and shoot him. Wouldn’t that be justice? After all they’d killed. After that one he’d shot out on the snow, even after knowing the secret under those masks.

Wasn’t like the group needed him, anyway. It was already broken. And what good was he? He couldn’t help Noct. Couldn’t help Iggy. Couldn’t even get near Gladio without going into a panic. And he was so tired of losing. So tired… Whenever they managed to scrape a few steps ahead of the game, to get close to reaching their goals, fate ripped the rug out from their feet and watched as they fell. 

It wasn’t...it wasn’t fair.

Prompto pressed his face into one of the stiff pillows and screamed until his lungs emptied, coming up only for sobbing breaths. He almost failed to hear the tentative knock on the door, the softness of Ignis’ voice calling to him. The gunner blinked, head swimming in air-deprived confusion. He didn’t hear what Ignis said, didn’t respond. 

Ignis called again, worry seeping through as he slid the door open. Prompto hadn’t bothered to lock it behind him. Why would he? If something wanted to barge in and kill him...well…

Prompto watched through reddened eyes as Ignis felt his way across the room, weaving around the bunk beds as he followed Prompto’s uneven breathing. His hand brushed tentatively across the cot before taking a seat across from the gunner.

 

**_“Ignis Scientia…”_ **

 

“Prompto… You gave us quite the scare. Do you wish to talk?” Ignis asked, voice low and soft, made even more so by that distinct accent.

_ No, _ Prompto thought. He wanted to cry. To lay down and cry until he washed away. To disappear. He wanted Noctis back. He wanted  _ normal _ back. But when he lifted his eyes to see Ignis… When he looked at where lively green eyes once sparkled behind a pair of glasses…

 

**_“...a shame what happened to him…”_ **

 

“Ardyn blinded you,” Prompto opened his mouth, the shaky words tumbling out like heavy bricks.

Ignis’ own mouth fell open, his body shifting backwards into a defensive posture.

“You never told us… Y-you said that you couldn’t remember… That-”

“Was a lie,” Ignis interrupted, clenching his teeth.

“Why didn’t you tell us? Why… why did you lie wh-when I asked you?” As soon as he spoke, Prompto’s mind hissed at the hypocrisy.  _ Not like you’ve been any better at sharing things with them… _ When did they all start keeping secrets from each other? When did they stop  _ talking _ about stuff? Was this...was this how a family broke apart?

“I… didn’t want Noctis to dwell upon delusions of revenge. With Lady Lunafreya’s...passing...Noctis was already stumbling under the weight of his grief. I didn’t want- I couldn’t add to the burden he already carried. If I’d told him what truly happened…”

“He’d be blinded by rage…” Prompto finished, staring into a corner. “On top of everything else…”

“Indeed…”

For a moment, their breathing made up the only sounds in the room, Prompto’s a little faster than Ignis’ as the gunner felt his nerves skitter just below the surface. The silence pressed in on Prompto. He didn’t want to trouble the man with his problems. Gods knew they had worse stuff to deal with. But maybe...maybe he should share something with Ignis. Just to make things even after blurting out something that Ignis hadn’t wanted to share. Maybe it would help. Get it all out of his head. Like when he and Noctis talked on that motel roof. That had been...kind of scary. But it felt good to get it all out, like an old weight lifted from his heart. 

It felt like it happened in a different life. To a different Prompto. One who still had hopes for the future, who still laughed and joked and followed his friends around with an innocent smile. Maybe he just wasn’t… just wasn’t Prompto anymore…

“I shot my father,” Prompto blurted again, staring at his hands as they tapped restlessly on his knee. His eyes fell on his barcode, crossed with the red burn mark, a souvenir from a moment of reckless stupidity. 

Ignis lifted his head, but remained silent. Just listened. His face betrayed no emotion. No judgement.

Prompto swallowed, a lump forming in his throat.  _ No stopping, now, Prompto. _

“Yeah...I-I… I killed him…” He ran a hand through his hair, the strands limp and messy from days of neglect. A strained little bark of laughter erupted from his lips.

“Twice. I killed...killed my… I killed him twice. What the hell, right?”

Ignis furrowed his brow. “How, exactly?”

“That one’s a bit of a long story. And...I don’t actually understand a lot of it,” Prompto admitted, staring up at the dirty ceiling. The overly bright fluorescent lights left him longing for real sunlight. For warmth and fresh air and the sky spreading far above his head. For the wind in his hair while the radio played in the Regalia.

He looked back at Ignis, listening and waiting so patiently, and wondered if he should say more. If he should say how he wasn’t just Verstael Besithia’s son… He was… Gods, another reason to hate his stupid face. He’d never look in a mirror, again.

 

**_“Such a lovely face, different from your father’s and endless brothers’ in only one detail...”_ **

_ Fingers trailed lightly, slowly over his freckled nose and cheekbones, lingering for a second, an eternity too long. He wanted to vomit. _

**_“Your've been so gently caressed by the sun...”_ **

 

Prompto huddled into himself, thin limbs knocking together. Noctis had been friends with the enemy all this time. More so than Prompto had ever known. If he had elaborated more on his past, back at the elevator, would Noctis have hated him? If he told Ignis… that he was Verstael’s clone. One of hundreds and hundreds of similar beings. If he told Ignis right now, would the man hate him? Would he think of Prompto differently? Probably…

 

**_“NH-01987-0006-0204. That’s your real name, isn’t it?”_ **

 

“You should just...leave me here… Honestly. You don’t have to put up with me, anymore… You don’t have to pretend. Now that Noct’s gone. Th-there’s no reason.”

“Prompto.”

Ignis’ voice, soft but determined, commanding, yet kind, broke through the smothering haze, pushing away memories of Ardyn’s presence. 

“If you’re not looking at me right now, I would advise you to do so.”

Prompto’s eyes automatically snapped up at Ignis’ words, wide and startled. Ignis reserved that tone for giving orders in battle, and scolding Noctis about eating his vegetables. It demanded unfaltering attention and obedience. At least, from everyone but Noctis.

“I cannot begin to imagine how the past few days have effected you… A weaker man would have shattered under the pressure. And if you do not wish to talk about any of it, then I will honor that wish.”

With glowing confidence and warmth softening his noble tone, Ignis sat before him as the voice of reason they’d always looked toward in times of trouble. And now, it was just him and Ignis. One supporting the other. The gunner fought the urge to look away. He knew that Ignis couldn’t see him, but the man had requested his eye contact. He found himself wishing that Ignis’ glasses didn’t conceal so much of his face. 

“But I want you to understand: no matter what you have learned about yourself, no matter what you have been told, you are one of us.”

 

**_“Still alive, little puppet?”_ **

 

“You are not a failure in any sense. Not a traitor, nor a soulless MT. You are not an enemy. You are not your father or his deeds.”

Prompto winced. Under different circumstances, Ignis’ definitely would have caught the action with his sharp sight.

“You’re not a weapon or a monster or any of the other countless names you have likely been spitting at yourself.”

 

**_“...you listening…?”_ **

 

“You are _Prompto_ _Argentum_. Beloved friend of the Prince. Esteemed member of the Crownsguard. Loyal citizen of Lucis. Lover of photography and chocobos and car rides and spicy dishes. You are undeniably the most human individual I have the honor of calling my friend.”

Something fragile and warm, something embarrassed and a little nervous, flickered in Prompto’s heart. 

Something heavy crept into Ignis’ voice, like his throat couldn’t create the words.  _ Hesitation… _ The expression pulling at Ignis’ features spoke of the same. Ignis Scientia looked and sounded unsure. Ignis. Unsure. As he spoke, Prompto had picked up on something else, too. Ignis sounded like he was getting kind of... _ emotional _ ?

As Ignis continued, his words spilled out a little faster, losing some of the careful poise and formality. They hit Prompto with just as much force. The warmth in his chest flickered.

“You push yourself much harder than many seem to notice, and you...you are far more special than you will _ever_ see fit to give yourself credit for and it honestly _infuriates_ me. You are the irreplaceable _heart_ of our team. ...Of our _family_ , Prompto. And I will not allow you to feel any less, not if I can help it… You were there when I awoke and stood by my side as I stumbled through the darkness. You guided me through my own hell and I’ll _not_ leave you to suffer unguided through yours. The mere thought of leaving you behind, here… I could never. Prompto Argentum, I- you’re my… I…   _Oh, drat!_ ”

Ignis struggled, as if dazed by the fire in his own words.

Prompto sat still as a statue. The room seemed so, so small, Ignis so close. The air felt like glass, like if he moved or spoke, it would all shatter.

Ignis closed his mouth, gripping the bedsheet tight in his hands until his leather gloves creaked. He opened his mouth again to speak, but the words took a moment to form. When they did, they were spoken slowly. With a whole different kind of fire.

“You are... _ so _ important.” Ignis looked like he wanted to say more, the sentence cutting off in a manner that didn’t fit the man’s usual way of speaking.

“I...I  _ care _ for you, for your safety and comfort. I worry… more than you could imagine.”

The Advisor’s breaths came out a little heavier, and Prompto felt that it wasn’t just from the  _ amount _ of words. No, Ignis had become emotional.  _ Emotional _ . If Prompto had a gil for every time he’d witnessed Ignis lose his cool, well, his finances might actually suck more than they did right now.

When Prompto could breathe again, he let out a fluttering little chuckle. His cheeks  _ burned _ .

“ _ Damn _ , Iggy. You-you gotta stop! You’re gonna make me cry.”

Ignis reached up to fiddle with his tinted glasses, as if suddenly unsure of what to do with his hands.

“I mean... every word. You know how much I  _ despise _ shallow flattery,” he stated with a cool tone.

“Yeah. Yeah… I-I know, Iggy. Geez… um, th-thanks. A-a lot… Really. Prompto bit his lip. Man, this felt awkward. But...kind of a  _ nice _ awkward. His chest felt full and warm, where a few minutes ago, he’d felt hollowed out and filled back up with ice. It didn’t fix everything, didn’t erase all that still weighed on his mind. But it was nice. So nice. To be cared for like that. To be loved and valued.

_ And Ignis… Getting all emotional! _

“You’re important t-to me, too, Iggy. Like,  _ really _ important. I’d probably have starved a long time ago if you weren’t so hellbent on keeping everyone fed.”

A fond smile flickered across Ignis’ face. A rare sight. Prompto tried to burn it deep into his memory. Smiles from any of them were so rare, now.  

“My thanks, Prompto.”

More silence.  _ What to say after all of  _ that… Prompto fiddled with his fingers, trying not to pick at the bandages.

“So...about Gladio. He’s...he’s not too pissed? Is he? I-I said some… some really nasty stuff.” He sighed, flinging his head back and rubbing a hand over his eyes. “O- _ kay!  _ I know! Gods, I was an ass!”

“I’d say he feels more worried about your safety, at the moment,” Ignis informed. “But you should talk to  _ him _ if you wish to hear his thoughts on the matter. I’m afraid that I’m a poor substitute for his particular brand of… expression.”

“Wait, what?” Prompto turned to stare at the door, wondering if Gladio was waiting on the other side, or if the Shield was prowling around elsewhere. He… didn’t know which he’d rather have.

“I’d rather not speak in his stead, given that I did not personally witness all that happened. However, I  _ do _ know that Gladio wishes to apologize.”

“Hmmm…” Prompto mused, unsure of how to react. He’d prepared himself for avoidance, for rage, retaliation. A grudge. Not an apology. Not from Gladiolus. He glanced down at his wrists, remembering how Gladio’s huge hands wrapped so easily around them. The sick surge of panic, of being trapped again and beaten and tormented and unable to move and unable to breathe and Ardyn-

“Breathe, Prompto. Slowly,” Ignis instructed, bringing Prompto back from the edge. “You’re safe, here.”

Prompto calmed, somewhat. He shifted his focus to the reality in front of him, grounding himself in the sensations around him. The glare of lights. The stiff bed. Ignis’ breathing. Minutes crept by as he just sat there, focusing on breathing with Ignis, following the sound of the Advisor’s inhalations and exhalations.

“So… what do we do now?” Prompto asked when he’d finally calmed enough to speak. “What’s the plan?”

Ignis straightened his posture, folding his hands in his lap. Seriously, only Ignis could make sitting on a dingy cot, unshowered and running on little to no sleep look like some formal meeting. 

“Once you and Gladio make your peace, I’d prefer to get the bloody hell out of here. We-”

“But Noct!” Prompto cried, nearly pouncing forward on the bed. “I promised to stay by his side…” Prompto squeezed his eyes shut against the prick of gathering tears. He couldn’t lose Noctis. “I promised him… We… were going to make everything better! Between Lucis and Niflheim… We…” Prompto stopped himself. He sounded ridiculous, babbling about vague plans that Noctis had made, probably just to make him feel better.

“We will return for Noctis and the Crystal after we regroup in Altissia. You have my word,” Ignis explained, ever patient. “As for now, we lack the means to move the Crystal, and we have no way of knowing when Noctis shall emerge. I understand that this is difficult for you. It is… not easy for I, either. If I were able, I would remain with Noctis, as well.” Ignis hung his head, hiding his face from Prompto for a brief moment. The gunner knew what Ignis was doing. He’d seen it happen countless times on their little adventure. Ignis was swallowing his emotions. Shoving the sadness and fear and worry down into whatever dark corner he stored them in.

“We must act with care and reason, and hiding like mice in a daemon-infested enemy base is far from ideal,” Ignis continued, though Prompto felt that Ignis was speaking to himself as well. 

“Yeah. You’re… you’re right, Iggy. Big surprise, there,” Prompto sighed. He squeezed his eyes shut. Leaving Noctis behind… it caused an ache in his chest that echoed of boring days at school. Of coming home to a dark and empty house. Of falling asleep alone and waking up alone and repeating it all again and again. He dragged a hand through his hair, letting out a long sigh. 

But they all needed to get the hell out of this place. They needed rest and a warm meal. Maybe a couple of those. They needed to tend their wounds and recover in safety. 

He needed to get away… far away from the memories, still freshly scarred into his brain.

He needed to trust Ignis. They’d return for Noctis. They would. 

_ Hang in there, buddy. We’ll be back before you know we’re gone... _

**Author's Note:**

> So, my little Listened-to-this-Obsessively-While-Writing-Song for this one is "Dream" by Imagine Dragons. As always, it's a great song that helped me get in the mindset.
> 
> Also, if anyone is interested, I am thinking of doing a side story of this chapter from Ignis' point of view. Cuz the poor guy had a lot in his lovely little head that he didn't say to Prompto. Tell me if that's a thing you'd like to read.


End file.
